The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1887-04-08
HW BOATMAN.

It was o mo oh,it night. The river,
dark and sullen, moved in itsrock bed
liks some gigantic serpent half over
come by the lethr,rgy OF sleep.
Here and there the moonbeams fell
upon the surface of the water, great
spots OF silvery whiteness, amidst the
dark shadows cast by the heavy foli-
age OF the cedar shrubbery which grew
between the almost perpendicular
rocks OF the high banks.
Fifty feet above the surface OF the
water they reared themselves. and at
one point they jutted forward as if to
salute each other, while the river be-
meath them deepened and narrowed.
At this point q bridge had once been
thrown across-a bridge which had
become complete ruin, one timber
alone remaining to mark thespot; one
long and narrow beam--it could not
have been more than six inches in
width-still maintained its place, and
in mutelanguage informed the stranger
that once there had been connection
between Rocky Hill and the mount
aims on the other side.
Upon the surface OF the river there
was q small rowboat, containing q
slender, crouching form wrapped in q
dark cloak.
From the top OF the bank upon
either side this rowboat would have
been invisible, but it was there, max
ing its way up and down past the
rocky buttress which upheld the beam,
always avoiding the moonlit spots
upon the river.
The sounds OF carousal were usurp-
ing the place OF the quiet OF the night,
the drunken jest and the coarse laugh
ter breaking in upon the sentimental
notes OF "Home, Sweet Home"-suny,
you would have averred, by some
lonely youth who was far from the
scenes OF his boyhood-came plainly
to the ears OF this silent watcher upon
the river, who, it seemed. could not
tear herself away from the sounds
which came from the the saloon upon
the rivers bank
Once only did the moonbeams fall
upon her fair, upturned lace,
1t was the face OF q woman who
should never have been in that wild,
lonely spot, listening for the sound OF
voice which had grown to address
her with refined words which were the
cruelest Of the cruel, waiting there up
on that lonely river. for-she knew
not what,
Muriel Warner was the daughter of
wealthy parents. She had married,
when very young, aman whom she had
worshiped as the embodiment of man.
~ worth and the perfection OF manly
beauty. Friends and relatives had
crowded about her with envious con.
gratulatlons, and for time her life
was perfect happiness.
But change had come. Fred War
ner was not what he had seemed. On
" q few short weeks OF happiness, and
sne handsome husband had plunged
into the widest dissipation. Friends
remained to her as long as the money
remained, and then they began to hint
that perhaps Muriel was not altogeth-
er blameless.
This was something which the spir-
tied wife would not stand. She broke
with relatives and friends and clung
to the dissipated man who was her
husband. From one city to another
he had dragged her with him, and now
he had deserted her and she had fol-
lowed him.
His was the cultured voice, which
warbled OF "Home, Sweet Home"
while his wife was q penniless, half.
crazed creature, out upon the river.
And she was penniless, for, regard
less OF food or shelter, she had paid
out her last cent for the use of the
boat which brought her, unseen, yet
nearer to him.
A quick, sharp report broke in upon
the mellow voice OF the singer.
1t was the report OF a revolver. Mu-
riel could hear the excited shouts, the
heavy trampling of feet, the banging
OF door, and then the weird cry,
"Murder!"
Half paralyzed. the frightened wom-
an rested upon her oars, just under
the beam which had once belonged to
the old bridge.
The sound of heavy feet, rapidly ap-
preaching, came from the bank close
at hand, and then Il dark form rushed
out between her and the moonllt sky
above her.
1t was a mans figure, and he was
attempting to cross the river upon
the narrow beam.
Excited shouts and the tramp OF bur.
ried feet followed him to the rivers
brink.
"Stop!" shouted @ voice. ~ Or
rest you for murder"
No reply came from the escaping
figure, which sped nimbly along its
marrow way.
A sharp chorus OF revolvers follow
ed; shot otter shot was fred, and then
the dark figure wavered, the hands
grasped wildly ut the air, and then
there was q fall.
The water deluged Muriel with a
shower OF drops as the body entered
the water. Shouts and the exultant
retreating voices held her attention
until she felt something creeping into
the boat behind her.
She turned and uttered q faint
shrek.
A man, and more than likely the
murderer, had taken possession OF
her little craft.
Give me the oars" said stern,
musical voice.
"You are not wounded, them" she
said, shrinking away from the drip
ping figure.
81 am not wounded" returned the
voice and then silently the boat was
rowed into the deepest shadows and
up the stream.
Moment after moment crept by.
The moon went down, darkness fell
entirely over the sluggish waves of the
river and yet the strange pair were
silent.
The high banks disappeared, the
stream grew narrower, and at length
the stranger drew the boat close up
to the shore.
MADAM" said the figure, bending
closer to Muriel, "tell me what yoa
l. 1. ~ r.